


No Proof

by Pen_to_parchment



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mortal, Confessions, Established Relationship, F/M, Song: You Are In Love (Taylor Swift), Songfic, jeyna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24867250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pen_to_parchment/pseuds/Pen_to_parchment
Summary: Reyna says something she regrets and has to deal with its consequences, and its implications. While at work, she gets some good advice from an unlikely source who helps her come to terms with the fact that you can't prove what you feel.[edited]“It’s not like I’ve been holding it in. It just… came out this morning. And I didn’t exactly give him a chance to speak after that.”“Pray tell, why not?” Reyna could hear the woman's almost mocking tone.She scoffs. “Because I didn’t mean it! And if hewasgoing to say it back, it was only because I said it first, and we’d both be lying.”
Relationships: Jason Grace/Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	No Proof

**Author's Note:**

> Reyna might seem a little OOC here, but she _is_ far out of her usual element. Gods know interpreting matters of the heart isn't exactly her forte, or her priority, so it makes sense that she would be a bit lost.

Despite knowing that her alarm is going to go off in approximately seven minutes, Reyna wonders just how unprofessional it would be to stay in bed’s pleasant embrace. For several moments, she debates whether or not enduring Lupa’s lecture is worth enjoying a few more minutes of warmth. She sighs and looks out of the room’s hazy windows. Outside, New York’s skyline is the color of slate. People on the streets below huddle together in their coats and scarves. Skyscrapers seem to brush the height of the city’s pale winter sky. Although she makes it a point to beat the sun to rising, it’s hard to tell today. _Five minutes_. Groping around the nightstand, she finds her phone and promptly cancels the alarm counting down the seconds to the time she should have woken up. Reyna huffs again and falls back on the pillows, resolving to soak up as much heat as she can. But, frowning at the empty space beside her, she folds the duvet to the side and lowers her feet to the freezing floor. 

She makes her way to Jason’s dresser and rifles through his clothes to find her own. Over the course of her many visits, she had made sure to keep enough of her clothes at his place in case of instances like this one. Yesterday, Jason had insisted she spend the night, and now, Monday morning, Lupa expected her at work in under an hour. Plucking a skirt and blouse from the bottom of a drawer, she forces herself to ignore the bite of cold air as she changes. 

With her clothes in a passable state of professionalism, Reyna endeavors to school her hair into the same condition. She rakes a hand through the knots as she opens the bedroom door. The scene in the apartment’s small kitchenette warms both her body and her heart. Heat from the stove fills the space easily, radiating comfort to combat the cold air threatening at the windows. Though admittedly not as much as the figure standing in front of it. Jason stands before several pans with his glasses perched precariously on his nose. At the sound of the door, he turns. His eyes light up upon seeing her, and she can’t help but smile. Crossing the small room in easy strides, he pulls her into a kiss. 

“Good morning.” he grins. _He’s already dressed_ , she observes. The New York winter is cursed not for the last time that day. It deprived her of seeing him shirtless first thing in the morning. She drapes her arms around his neck.

“Mhmm.” She cards a hand through his hair, her own momentarily forgotten. “It would’ve been, if you hadn’t left me to freeze.” 

Jason winces. “Sorry. But hopefully, _that_ can warm you up instead?” He jabs a finger at the table, piled high with pancakes and various toppings. Fruits, whipped cream, chocolate chips, and syrup littered its surface. And for the second time, unnaturally early in the day, she smiles. Unfortunately, she was going to have to let breakfast go cold. 

“I can’t,” she says, planting an apologetic hand on his chest. His place was slightly farther from her firm than her apartment was, though it was still within walking distance.

He nods in understanding. Though his slight frown suggests that he was hoping otherwise. “I figured, but I thought maybe…” He shakes his head. Jason bends his mouth into a cuter pout. “Guess I’m eating thirty pancakes alone.” Reyna rolls her eyes and playfully swats his arm. She breaks away from him gently and makes her way to the door. 

“I can help you later. We can have breakfast for dinner.” She takes her coat from beside the door and slips into heels. Most of the buttons had been fastened into place when she feels arms wrap around her from behind.

“You’re coming back here later?” His voice is muffled slightly against her shoulder. 

“Yeah.” She feels him hum appreciatively. Reyna tried to avoid spending nights with him on workdays. Evidently, she hadn’t been able to resist the other day. And now, with the promise of both Jason and pancakes, there was really no debate necessary. Nevertheless, her weekday visits were a treat for him. When his head—and his lips—move higher, she gasps. He pushes her coat collar aside and peppers her neck with kisses. His tongue caresses her, and his teeth nip at her pulse gently. She purrs and leans back into him. His hands pull at the top folds of her coat, yet to be buttoned, and drag them, along with the sleeve of her blouse, down her shoulder. With new skin bare to him, Jason sets to exploring the crook of her neck and tracing her collar bone with his mouth. “I have to go,” she groans, to little avail. She had spent time this morning trying to seem professional. A bruise on her neck just might ruin the look. 

“I know,” he murmurs against her skin. “I’m kissing you goodbye.”

Suppressing a whimper, Reyna summons enough restraint to turn around in his arms. He smirks at her darkened eyes and newly disheveled hair. “Really? That felt more like a _hello_.” She pulls her coat back up and finishes closing it, letting Jason rest his hands on her waist, fingers fiddling with the buttons on her coat. She looks at him pointedly. “ _I have to go_.”

He removes his hands and holds them up in surrender. As she opens the door he calls, “Wait! You still need to eat something.” 

“I am _not_ taking a pancake to-go.” She checks her phone and glances down the hall.

Jason rolls his eyes. “ I know. Wait there.” 

So she stands with one foot in the doorway watching him bustle around the kitchen. He pulls a piece of almost black bread from the toaster and hurries to the table covered in toppings. Meeting her at the door, he presents it to her proudly, covered in whipped cream and strawberries. “Burnt toast?” she arches an eyebrow. 

“It’s well-done toast,” he defends. “And you can hardly see it.” That much was true. The bread was thoroughly slathered in cream and fruit. 

Still, she laughs and takes it from him when he thrusts it towards her again, along with a small plastic container. “Thanks. I’m going now.”

“Fine.” He gently brings his lips to hers in a _proper_ goodbye kiss. But she suspects, judging by his earlier affections, that his greeting when she returns later will be much more enthusiastic.

“I love you,” she breathes. Reyna almost turned away, before realizing what words had just left her mouth. She looks back up and sees Jason suppressing a smile. 

“I—”

“I didn’t mean that.” In the same instant it takes her to regret that, his face twists into a look of confusion. 

“Oh…” He blinks at her slowly, hurt, stunned eyes peer at her questioningly. 

She screws her eyes shut. “I didn’t mean that either,” she recovers, if it can be called that. Reyna winces and shakes her head. “Look, we’ll talk about this later.” Her gaze darts down the hall, her only escape, now. “I’m going to be late.” She launches up again and pecks him on the cheek. Jason likely doesn’t have enough time to register that before she takes off towards the stairs. 

She practically flies down flight after flight, balancing the container under her arm and twisting her hair into a braid. Once at street level, the chilled air sobers her and makes her aware of just how warm her cheeks are. Wrapping her coat tighter around her, she begins the daily walk to Jack London’s law firm, located downtown. She tucks the container into her purse and tries not to give her mind over to replaying that disastrous conversation. Instead, she focuses on dodging pedestrians and trying not to get run off of the sidewalk. However, years in Manhattan train you in these kinds of things, and soon enough she finds herself repeating what she said and wishing she could pull the words back into her mouth. The confession, and everything she had said trying to take it back afterward. Reyna wonders what had possessed her to say any of it. She could hardly plead the excuse that she had said it out of habit. There were very few people in her life that had ever heard that phrase come from her lips. Surely, she couldn’t have meant it. But why did she try to assure him of the very opposite? He had never dropped any hints that _he_ was any closer to saying it. Up until now, their relationship had been largely casual, and, considering her job, she loved that. They were both experimenting and figuring themselves out. Neither were planning on making any commitments. But had she made one earlier?

 _I love you._ Just how important was it to say? Why had she said it? Had he been about to say it back? And, furthermore: Did she want him to? Those questions turn themselves over in her head for an agonizing several blocks. They cling to her consciousness as stubbornly as the cold atmosphere hanging around the city. She weaves through the city’s maze of crosswalks and crowds of people and navigates her way downtown.

Reyna only finds relief when she enters Lupa’s office. In that room, there was no space for thoughts other than work. Spotless hardwood echos under her heels. Bookshelves were built into the left and right walls, filled with volume after volume of encyclopedias, forming straight, clean lines all around the room. The only decorations on the walls are the many degrees and diplomas framed on the wall behind an oak desk. And behind that desk sits her boss, as refreshingly pragmatic as her office is. Lupa Hampton perched on the edge of her seat, her back almost parallel to the wall behind her. Her dark grey hair was pulled into a severe bun at the base of her neck. She looks up for a brief moment when she enters before turning her sharp eyes back to the computer in front of her. 

“Good morning. You’re later than usual.” The woman speaks in a clipped tone, almost as if Reyna were a defendant she was prepping for the judge’s questions. She indicates the chair in front of her, eyes still not leaving the screen. While she worked as a paralegal under Lupa, Reyna was little more than a glorified errand girl, recovering files and conducting research for the lawyer.

“I had a few things to take care of,” she says, taking the seat across from her and setting her bag on the floor. Lupa wouldn’t have appreciated a _sorry_. Any sign of weakness or hesitation in front of her, in a courtroom or otherwise, was a bad move. 

“Is everything alright?” she drones in response. Reyna can tell it’s the woman’s reluctant effort to extend social niceties, so she doesn’t hold it against her. 

“Yes. How are y—”

“Fine, Miss Ramírez,” she sighs. “Do you have the evidence files for the Kahale case?” Lupa holds her gaze for a solid six seconds, probably the most eye contact she would get that day. That was long enough for her. The woman’s irises were as silver as mist, so light they could barely be distinguished from the whites of her eyes. Reyna is already leaning over and pulling files out of her bag. 

She sets the pale folders in a spread on the woman’s desk. “Right here.” Lupa lays a hand on them and pulls them to the space beside her computer. She flips through the documents inside, scanning the words quickly before closing the folder again. 

“Thank you. I need a draft of the pleadings from the last hearing by the end of the day.” Her words sound as dismissive as the hand gesturing to the door. 

Picking up her things, Reyna heads for the door leading to her own adjacent office. The room on the other side of the door is much like Lupa’s, featuring the same floors and walls, hung with far fewer certificates, of course. She sinks into her chair, ready to lose herself in legal correspondence and trial minutes. Her desk, on the outside, looks identical. Though she’s fairly sure Lupa doesn’t have a drawer dedicated to jellybeans. Her computer sits on top of it, opened to her home screen. Ah, another difference. Unlike her boss’s default blue background, Reyna’s monitor displayed her face and Jason’s, both smiling back at her. She sighs. _I’ll deal with you later_ , she thinks. So she pushes the frustrating, yet comforting lull of legalese to the front of her mind. And any and all confessions of love to the back. 

Her lunch break comes too soon for her liking. Reclining against the back of her seat for the first time that day, she pulls her phone out, expecting the flurry of texts that Jason sends around that time. However, she finds her notification screen blank. He would normally message her either asking her out for lunch or simply keeping her company during their free time. She wonders if he’s angry. Reyna purses her lips and taps her phone on again. Still nothing. Finally, she drops her phone back into her bag and hears the dull thud of it striking plastic. She pulls the container out, remembering the toast inside. “Alright, then,” she mutters to herself. 

The whipped cream has lost its volume and was soaked into the toast, and the strawberries are slowly slipping off. But she smiles, gingerly picking it up. It tastes about as good as she had expected it to. And she hadn’t expected much. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Reyna’s eyes shoot to the door, where Lupa stands with a confused look in her unnerving eyes. She usually left the door open to the other office in case she was needed, so the older woman must have seen her while she was leaving. Doing her best to quickly down the mess of ashes and fruit, she answers, “It’s my office.”

Miss Hampton didn’t look impressed. She enters the room fully and comes to stand in front of her desk. “It’s your lunch break,” she points out, slightly bemused. It was a rare sight to see: Lupa Hampton displaying uncertainty about absolutely anything. “Where’s the boy?” 

“The boy has a name,” she deflects in return. She isn’t sure why she’s talking to her boss like this. Apparently, her mouth is feeling liberal today. But she doesn’t apologize. 

With a smirk, Lupa sits down across from her with her hands folded on the desk. “I really couldn’t care less about it. What I _do_ care about are my employees. Specifically, why one of them is still working on her lunch break.” The woman regards her pointedly. Even with both of them sitting down, Reyna still has to lift her head a shade higher to meet her gaze, which she has to force herself to do. She sets the bread back into its container for fear of it getting on her keyboard. 

“I’m fine. You have lunch, too.” Mostly she wanted to get away from those probing eyes before she cracked and confided in her boss. It was all she could do not to squirm in her seat. The woman’s stare is unwavering. _She would’ve made a good judge_ , Reyna thinks. 

Lupa grins not entirely warmly. “I don’t eat on my break.” 

It’s her turn to be confused. “Then where do you go?” She knew for a fact that she didn’t stay in her office during those thirty minutes. 

“I take a walk,” she shrugs. Somehow, even that action manages to look calculated. 

“Okay…” Reyna blinks. She enjoys the brief respite from the eyes regarding her. “Take a walk, then.” She’s aware of how that sounds, and she’s wondering if she should actually apologize when Lupa speaks again. 

“You know, I would. And I try not to get involved in my employees’ personal lives, but right now, I feel obligated to ask what is wrong.” Her eyes light up in realization. “What did he do?” 

Reyna gapes at her. “Who? Jason? He didn’t do anything!” 

“For someone who works with a lawyer, you do a poor job of defending your boyfriend,” Lupa observes. 

She huffs in response. “He didn’t do anything,” she repeats, calmer this time. “I… _I_ might’ve, though.” _Damn those eyes_. At this point, she has to look away before the lawyer can squeeze the rest of the story out of her. 

The woman across from her simply quirks an eyebrow. She was probably enjoying this too much. “What did _you_ do, then?” Her fingers begin to tap out a steady rhythm on the desk, a fairly innocent, yet vaguely threatening gesture. 

Reyna folds her arms in front of her on the desk and lifts her head enough to meet Lupa’s eyes again. “I told him I loved him.” 

For several moments, her boss stares at her blankly. Then, she barks a laugh and gets up. At first, Reyna thinks she’s leaving, but she calls back when she reaches the door, “Walk with me, Miss Ramírez.”

She frowns but does what she’s told and follows her outside, grabbing her coat. It turns out, Lupa had not stopped to see if she had followed and continued out the building’s exit and into the freezing streets. After catching up with her, she’s led to a small park across from the firm. They walk among the bare trees in silence, Lupa taking note of everything in their path. Though Reyna’s sure she’s walked this route hundreds of times before. Her eyes match the sky, and they scan every detail of the park. The pair of birds on the line across the street pressing together for warmth. The dead, yellowing grass crunching under their heels. The book left lying spine-up on a bench: she doesn’t miss any of it. She’s not all that surprised to find out that her boss did this on her lunch break. Lupa had earned the nickname ‘She-Wolf’ for the way she stalked and paced around courtrooms before trials. When the other woman offers no further conversation, she decides to break the silence. “Why did you laugh?” she asks.

At that, she smirks. “The concerns of the youth,” she declares, “are often entertaining to listen to. So, you said you loved him, and… what? Did he not say it back?” She sounds almost mocking. Her step never falters, and she keeps her eyes forward, for which Reyna is grateful. 

“No. I think he was about to, but I didn’t exactly give him the chance.” She elects to blame the sudden heat rushing to her face on the cold. But she can feel Lupa’s eyes on her, and she can tell she doesn’t think the same. 

“Pray tell, why not?” 

Reyna scoffs. “Because I didn’t mean it! And if he _was_ going to say it back, it was only because I said it first, and we’d both be lying.” She can see the words clouding in front of her, and they sit like ash on her tongue. Though it might be the aftertaste of the toast. She isn’t sure. 

The face of the woman next to her is one of utter confusion. It straightens out before she speaks again. “What evidence do you have of that?” 

“Of what?” she bristles. 

“That you didn’t mean it. That he doesn’t genuinely feel the same and would have told you as much had you given him the opportunity to.” She seems to think better of something. “Not that I would know anything about those things,” she amends. 

“There _is_ no evidence of that. There’s no proof of whatever either of us does or doesn’t feel. It’s not like I’ve been holding it in. It just… came out this morning.” Reyna keeps her head forward in an attempt to match Lupa’s posture.

“And what do you think that says about what you really wanted to tell him?” 

She shakes her head and frowns at the other woman. “That I didn’t think about it.” 

“And yet, you said it.” Lupa gives her a rueful smile, regarding her knowingly. “Let me offer some non-legal advice.” Reyna inclines her head in agreement. “Love is a choice,” Lupa begins. “Whether made consciously or not. And no, there is no proof of the emotions you may or may not have, but you should feel enough to judge that for yourself. If you really did not think about what you were saying, then you loved him long before you ever voiced it to him. Or even realized yourself.” 

She doesn’t respond for a while. Surprisingly, she appreciates the clinical approach to her love life. It couldn’t be a heart-to-heart with her boss if no heart was used. This was more of a mind-to-mind. That somehow helps her reconcile the fact that _this was her boss._

“Okay. So I love him. Maybe. That doesn’t guarantee he feels the same way.” She spies one of the birds on the line flit away down the street. 

The older woman seems to consider that for several moments. “Then I suppose that is his choice to make,” she pauses. “Either way, you won’t end up like me.” She exhales, and her breath billows out in front of them. 

Reyna spares her a sideways glance. “A successful woman with four PhDs? That’s practically all I want to be.” 

Lupa stares back at her with a sharp gleam in her eyes, like light glinting off steel. “And of those four, how many do you think hold me at night?” Though a teasing smile lurks at the corner of her mouth. 

She’s sure that’s rhetorical, yet she feels the need to say something else. But she’s not sure how to follow that. Instead, she keeps quiet as the grass beneath them makes the stark transition to pavement, and the shards of sky fractured by the barren branches above come back together overhead. Soon enough, they’re nearing the building’s entrance again. Before opening the door, Lupa fixes her eyes on her again. “Do not look for proof of what you feel. You will not find it. Emotions operate on instinct alone. Let them.” 

“You are the last person I thought would give me that advice.” Reyna considers the irony of it all. Lupa was arguably one of the most emotionless people she’d ever met. And here she was advising her on her love life during their lunch break. 

Suddenly, it seems as if her boss is the one having trouble maintaining eye contact. She focuses on the door handle while twisting it. “I hoped I had more to teach than legal jargon.” 

“Thank you.” 

She was already walking down the hall. “You can thank me by drafting those pleadings,” Lupa sniffs. 

Left behind once again, Reyna follows, smiling and shaking her head. “Yes, ma’am.” 

————————

She keeps her word. As reluctant as she is to talk to Jason, she continues to his apartment. On the way home, she navigates both the busy streets and her own tangled feelings. Trying not to rehearse a speech in her head, she tugs her coat closer to her body. Her way up the stairs is slow, and when she finally arrives at his door, she pauses. _I’ve stalled long enough_ , she chides herself, forcing her hand into a fist and knocking. 

He opens the door, and he smiles at her as if she’s a happy surprise someone dropped off. “Hey. I didn’t know if you were still coming over.” 

The warm light of the kitchen glows behind him. Fresh pancakes and toppings are set on the table. Scents of coffee, chocolate, and fruits waft out of the room. “I hate to think you did all this expecting someone else, then.” He chuckles softly and moves aside to let her into the apartment. She takes her time hanging up her coat and only turns around when she senses him close behind her. “You didn’t call at lunch,” she says, trying to remove any accusation from her voice. He had a right to be angry, though it didn’t seem like he was at the moment. 

Regardless of that effort, Jason looks guilty. “I thought you might want some space. Time to think.” He seems unsure of what to do with himself, hands fidgeting like he wants to reach out to her. She doesn’t know how much more space he thinks she needs. 

“Time to think,” Reyna repeats. “I wasn’t doing much of that this morning, was I?” 

His sigh tells her he agrees, but he allows himself to take her hands, still cold. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he assures her. _He’s trying to be casual about this_. 

“I think we should.” She inhales deeply and looks up at him. _No proof_ , Lupa had said, but the hopeful look on his face is as much proof as she needs. “What would you say, hypothetically, if I told you I loved you, for real this time?” He smiles at her. 

“I like to think the first time _was_ real, no matter what you said.” Reyna glares at him. “But, hypothetically, I would do what I would’ve done earlier. I’d say it back, and probably kiss you.” 

“Then,” she breathes. “I love you.” 

She realizes the words taste better than burnt toast in her mouth. And the lips pressed against hers make them all the sweeter.


End file.
